


Contract of Employment

by WonderlandWriter13



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Cult of the Lightless Flame (The Magnus Archives), House at 105 Hill Top Road (The Magnus Archives), Multi, The Magnus Institute (The Magnus Archives)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27539956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderlandWriter13/pseuds/WonderlandWriter13
Summary: A collection of events from Gertrude Robinson's years as Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute. Collection contains events occurring from 1965 up until her death in 2015.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Part One

THE GRINNING WHEEL


	2. People See Strange Things All the Time

_Autumn 1965_

She was sat in a café, a small ceramic cup in her hands. She had decided that she liked the spot, it stood secluded, buried behind office buildings yet maintained a steady flow of customers. There were never enough to create a line but not so little that there weren't at least five patrons scattered throughout the small lobby.

She set her tea aside, picking up the notebook she was never without and scribbled down a few more notes.

_ Patient _   
_ Oblivious _   
_ Docile _

The words floated beneath the date and location she had written previously, creating another column of words in the notebook.

Satisfied by her conclusions she shifted her eyes to the next patron. He was bent over a book she couldn't see but was clearly engrossing. She briefly acknowledged that she knew the feeling and drew a line beneath the previous list of words in preparation to make another.

As she did, the clock on the wall chimed bringing her attention to how much time had passed. With a glance at her watch she rose to her feet, slipping on a wool coat. The world outside had grown cold as the year grew late and harsh wind whipped through London wildly.

She thanked the man behind the counter and left feeling satisfied, glad to have found a pleasant café so near to her possible new job.

Outside, the streets weren't crowded as usual and she did not shy from the wind enough to keep herself from scanning the people and places around her. The path to the old building was rather direct and when she approached she found herself pausing to consider it before entering.

She knew it had most likely been built before it housed the Institute and, that for the past hundred and twenty-four years it had done so without fail. The windows were clean albeit cloudy with age and while the handle to the door shined, it was growing tarnished at the edges. The words _Audio, Vigilo_ and _Opperior_ were carved above the door and their meaning did not escape her.

"Hopefully there isn't too much waiting involved." She muttered to the building and climbed the steps.

The handle was smooth beneath her hand and the door opened with ease, a burst of warm air caressing her face as she entered. The lobby was like the outside of the building, distinguished and professional but not gaudy or filled with unnecessary trinkets. She found the sight encouraging and when she approached the desk she felt her mood lighten at the thought of working here.

The secretary was on the phone, talking into the handset and twisting the cord idly around her fingers. She was beginning to think that she had spoke too soon outside when someone addressed her from behind the desk.

"Ah, Miss Robinson I assume?"

Her eyes rose and rested on a well dressed middle aged man. He wasn't short but she found herself nearly eye to eye with him and he regarded her with a steady, even gaze.

"Gertrude is fine." She replied, stepping around the desk and ignoring the secretary. "You must be Richard Mendlson. How is it that you knew it was me?"

The man chuckled at her question. "We don't usually get people your age in here. At least, not often."

At this Gertrude frowned. "I thought people came here seeking answers to questions most find are..." She paused, searching for an appropriate phrase. "Not worth their time."

"That is true." He agreed. "Though they're not usually in a calm state like yourself." He offered his hand. "And yes I am Richard Mendlson, it's very nice to meet you Gertrude."

She grasped his hand, noting the strength of his grip and she was sure he noted hers. "It's nice to meet you as well." Gertrude said customarily.

"Well," Richard said, gesturing them forwards. "Let's not waste anymore time shall we?"

She nodded and followed him into what she gathered was his office. It was like the rest of the Institute. Professional. Distinguished.

"I'm fairly certain that you fit all the necessary requirements to take over the position of Archivist but I do believe it's appropriate to conduct an interview regardless." Richard said, taking the seat behind the desk. "Please make yourself comfortable." He told her, motioning to the chairs across from him.

Gertrude sat, opening the leather bag she carried and removed her resume and other credentials. "I would hate to cut corners." She told him.

"As would I." He took the papers as she offered them and scanned the pages before continuing. "Impressive, as I have been told." Richard smiled cheerfully.

"You've been in contact with the library." Gertrude said. She assumed he had since she was asked to fill the vacant position without having any sort of interaction with the Institute. She had heard of the place and been curious about it's function but hadn't gotten around to taking a closer look.

"Yes, I spoke at length with Mr. Elliot about your work and research there. He has assured me that you'll make an excellent Archivist." Richard informed her. "But I do have some questions before we get to the paperwork."

"Ask away." She replied, keen to ask her own questions.

He proposed standard questions that were asked during the hiring process and Gertrude answered them easily, offering extra details where they were necessary.

No she had never been convicted of a crime.

Yes she graduated from University early through hard work and dedication, which were skills she would apply to her job here.

Outside of work she enjoyed reading at cafés and the occasional outing with friends from University.

"Why do you want this job?" Richard asked once she finished answering the last question.

"You mean other than the fact that I get to be in charge and don't have to fight anyone else for it?" Gertrude said, a touch of humor in her voice. "Well, I'm very good at what I do and I rather enjoy doing what I'm good at. This just so happens to be the perfect opportunity and place for me to do that so of course, I want this job."

"Mr. Elliot will be disappointed to lose you." The man commented, apparently satisfied by her answer. "He said that you're the best assistant he's had the pleasure of working with at the library."

"High praise." Gertrude commented. "I hope I continue to show for it."

Richard waved the thought away. "I'm sure that you will. And now, two more questions for you." He seemed to watch her even more closely now. "Do you believe in the supernatural world or supernatural happenings?"

She had been expecting this and had a carefully thought out answer prepared. Gertrude didn't want to openly express that believed in the supernatural and furthermore she had seen proof of 'supernatural happenings' to support that belief. She wasn't sure why she was wary of the question but she always trusted her instincts.

"People see strange things all the time." Gertrude began slowly. "It would be foolish to assume that when such a thing happens there is a always a 'rational' and 'reasonable' explanation for it. The worlds is much bigger than most people give it credit for."

"I find that I am very much inclined to agree." Richard said with a smile. "I'm glad to that we already have something in common. And now to the last question; what began your interest in the supernatural?"

She had wondered the same thing over the years. Perhaps it been a nagging feeling, some sense that there was so obviously more to the world than what everyone else assumed. Perhaps it was the belief that there _had_ to be more, that the world couldn't be as boring and simple as it appeared.

Gertrude could never pinpoint what had drawn her to occult books and supposed true horror stories. She just simply had been.

"It's much similar to my previous answer I believe." She told him. "The world is much bigger than we give it credit for so it reasons to believe in things beyond our own existence. That thought has driven me to explore the supernatural world."

"I see." He said. "Well, you're hired. Not that the fact was up for much debate." The man said with a wide smile. "We just have to fill out some paperwork and-"

"I do have a few questions of my own." Gertrude interrupted promptly.

Richard paused his shuffling of the many papers and nodded. "Of course, ask away."

"The previous Head Archivist, Mr. Angus Stacey. It's true that he was found with his face torn off?" She watched Richard closely, seeking insight from his reaction to her question.

The man shifted slightly but just enough to tell her than he hadn't expected her to know _that_ detail.

"He was yes. His last assistant Fiona found him and had a dreadful time trying to tell me what had happened. There was blood everywhere, it was quite a mess to clean up." He answered, surprising her with more candidness then she expected. "It seems word of it has traveled."

Recovering from her surprise Gertrude shook her head. "I did my own research before I decided I would work here. Fiona had a dreadful time telling _me_ the details as well. She seems like a very sweet woman."

"She is, among other things." He replied, offering no comment to her research into the Institute.

She sat up a little straighter. "I wanted to know what I was getting into working here. It's not everyday you're hired to replace someone who was killed because of his work."

Richard nodded. "I suppose not."

Gertrude gestured to his desk. "Shall we start the paperwork?"

"Yes." He said, picking up the top page and sliding it towards her. "The contract of employment will be the first thing. Make sure to sign both lines please."

She nodded, doing as asked and when she handed it back he smiled once more. "Welcome to the Magnus Institute." Richard said. "I hope there are many successful years ahead of us."

Gertrude smiled as well. "As do I."


	3. I Trust Her As Much As I Trust Myself

_Autumn 1965_

"Fiona?" Gertrude called through the doorway of her office.

The short woman practically scurried into the room, her eyes wide with expectation. "Yes Miss Robinson?"

Gertrude paused a moment to take a breath. "Fiona, please call me Gertrude. You're more than twice my age, there's no need for you to call me 'Miss Robinson'."

The woman deflated a bit. "Ah I'm sorry Gertrude it won't happen again." She eyed the files on the desk. "What did you need?"

"Are these all the statements Angus was working on before his...passing?" Gertrude shuffled the meager pile around as if there were more hidden underneath.

Fiona smiled nervously. "Mr. Stacey was very particular when it came to filing the statements. Often times he asked me to refile ones I'd already processed and-"

"I'm aware of his... _excessive_ methods of organizing." Gertrude interrupted, fighting impatience. "I want to know that you're sure these are all the files he worked on before he died."

The woman nodded vigorously. "Oh yes of course! It may have been a pain at times but Mr. Stacey's method of filing was very competent. Those are all the files he had accessed before his...well...those are all the files."

Gertrude frowned. There wasn't very much information here to go off of but it had to do for now. "What about personal notes?"

"I believe Mr. Mendlson collected those. Would you like me to see if he still has them?" Fiona asked eagerly.

Gertrude smiled at her. "Yes that would be very helpful. Thank you Fiona."

As the woman rushed off Gertrude closed the door to the office she had decided looked and felt dreary. It was plain and held only a desk, two chairs and some filing cabinets. There was nothing distinguished here. It contained only the bare necessities. 

For a moment she felt lost, buried in a small corner of the Institute with little to no information that could point her in the direction she desired. There had to be a way to track the creature that killed Angus Stacey. A smart and careful way. She had already assumed Angus hadn't had _enough_ caution which had most likely been the cause of his death. 

She was stepping into the larger world now, not just reading about it. She had to operate with caution and have the strength to protect herself and others who worked here. Gertrude wasn't sure how many of the departments were _aware_ of the larger world but she figured it was only fair to keep them in mind if she went poking around dark and sinister places and creatures.

She wandered over to the desk and rummaged through the files again. The first file was one that contained possible connections to the creature but didn't hold anything more than speculation and uncertainty. The second contained a statement from a woman who had seen the creature from afar which she had read already. 

Despite this fact, Gertrude found herself thumbing through the pages again and suddenly paused. There were two pages she had somehow missed, filed behind the others. Confused, she removed the pages and placed them on the desk side by side. It was another statement, dated a week before Angus Stacey's death.

"Where did you come from?" Gertrude muttered, caught off guard by it presence. 

She flipped through the rest of the files, triple checking this time. When she discovered nothing else Gertrude turned her attention back to the new statement. Curiosity won over her confusion and she scanned the paper, beginning to read.

The handwriting was neat and light. She noted the date in corner, silently checking again with the date of Angus's death. It had been taken _exactly_ a week before it.

Beneath the date the statement began:

**Tobin Williamson's encounter with a creature of masks and smiles.**

_I am alone. All my life I've been alone. Not in the sense of being without others. I've had others around me whether I wanted it or not. From overbearing family to overly friendly cast mates I have always ended up surrounded by a plethora of people._

_When I say that I've been alone all my life I mean that I have never encountered anyone else like me. I haven't met a single person who was as real and as genuine as myself. There has never been a connection between myself and someone else that was grounded in absolute realness because the truth is, no one is who they say they are._

_There is always a lie, always something buried beneath the pretenses and polite words. I have never seen a real smile on anyone's face because deep down no one is what they believe themselves to be:_ real _._

 _Maybe it was this realization that drove me to acting in the first place. I think, once upon a time, I thought that if I played fake too, in whatever way I could, I would find a similarity with_ someone _. I could understand the lies and masks that people wore and maybe then I would fit in somewhere._

_Instead I've only managed to end up deep in debt with student loans and can barely get by with what little money I do manage to make._

_Everything started with the mask. It was two months ago, dress rehearsal has just ended and instead of attending another sickening night out with my fake cast mates, I decided to stay behind and run through some lines_. 

_Our director, Hubert Matthews often stayed well into the early morning going over show notes so I knew that I would have a few extra hours to get some practice in by myself._

_I was in the loft, an open area above the stage where old props are stored, and began going over the script. I won't bother you with the details of my character or lines or any of that nonsense. In all honesty if I didn't need the money from it, I wouldn't even suggest that people come see the show at all. People, I discovered, are even more disingenuous when there's a spotlight involved._

_The point here is that I spent most of the night pacing back and forth spouting out nonsense until I noticed a figure from the corner of my eye._

_I hadn't bothered turning the overhead lights on, Hubert got huffy if 'too much power was used after hours' so I had been relying on the distant hall light that shined no matter the time of day_

_I couldn't tell you when exactly I noticed the figure as I paced. I was simply struck with the sudden realization that someone was standing at the end of the hallway. I paused to look at them, expecting to see the scrawny form of the Director but when my eyes rose there was_ nobody _there._ _But that couldn't be right could it? I was certain there had been_ someone _standing there beneath the light, watching me._

_I squinted down the hallway for a few seconds before I concluded that I must have been mistaken and turned back to the script in my hand. But I only made it across the floor once more before I saw the figure again as I turned._

_I froze this time, watching from my peripheral to make sure that I wasn't mistaken. The shape didn't move but something began to shine in front of it's head, a thin line of something white._

_It took me only one more moment before I realized what it was._

_The thin growing line was a smile._

_I shifted then, hoping to get a proper look at whoever or_ whatever _was standing there but before I could turn completely it climbed through the door to the costume storage._

_I say climbed because while it appeared appeared to be humanoid, it reached for the door jam and pulled itself through horizontally, tucking the legs beneath it's body and clambering across the wall before vanishing inside._

_I was perturbed by the thought, creeped out even but more than that I was curious. What was this thing that smiled so widely? So openly?_

_So_ honestly _._

_I abandoned the loft and made my way down the hall towards the open door. I glanced into the room and quickly reached inside to flick the lights on. They flashed with a brightness I hadn't been expecting and I blinked in the sudden light, scanning the area._

_There are plenty of places to hide in costume storage. Between racks of clothes, shelves that store many pairs of shoes and old vanity mirrors, the options are nearly endless. I didn't have to look long though. There on the ground, in the middle of the room was a porcelain mask._

_I don't know much about the history of masks in theatre or things like that but I immediately knew that it was old. And yet, while the surface was chipped, the painted face was as clear and shining as if it had just finished drying. The eyes matched the expression flawlessly, creating the perfect image of a true and genuine smile as I had never seen before. Not even on my own face._

_I was so in awe that I forgot about the strange thing I had seen in the hall and picked it up._

_There was an old vanity mirror directly across from where I stood and without thinking I lifted the mask and held it over my face. Of course I couldn't see what it looked like in the mirror, there were no holes to see through it, but I did it anyway. It felt...right somehow._

_When I lowered the mask, I found the creature from the hall stood behind me, smiling the same shining smile in the mirror._

_I found myself smiling back._

_Since then I have found that I_

"No." Gertrude breathed at the paper. She flipped it over, searching for the rest of the statement but the back of the page was blank. "Seriously? All this effort to file perfectly and there's a missing page?"

She jumped to her feet and rushed way from the desk, calling out for her assistant. "Fiona!" The door flew open beneath her hand. "Fiona-! Oh." Gertrude took a step back, face to face with Richard Mendlson. "Mr. Mendlson." She said, barely stopping herself from stuttering.

"Richard, please I insist." He said and looked at her with concern. "Are you quite alright?"

She felt a strange sensation. A prickle across the back of her neck that made her shiver. "What? Yes, I'm fine." Gertrude assured, trying to come back to her senses. "Have you seen Fiona?"

The man nodded, concern still present on his face. "I was just with her. She said you were looking for Mr. Stacey's notes."

She wasn't sure if she imagined it or not but every time he said the previous Archivist's name something like contempt seemed to creep into his voice. "Yes I was- am." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm rather distracted." The words from the statement wouldn't leave her head. They bounced around and around, eager to be finished. 

Richard peered into the office, his eyes landing on the scattered pages on her desk. "Reviewing a statement?" 

"Yes." Gertrude moved aside, allowing him to enter and calmly made it back to the desk. "The notes, do you still have them?"

"I do." He offered her a small stack of notebooks and she took them gratefully. "I was also hoping to discuss the hiring of a few more assistants for you."

"Actually, so was I." She gathered the scattered papers and set them aside, forcing the statement from her mind. "I know of someone already, I hope you don't mind."

Richard raised his brows. "As long as they're capable and meet the necessary requirements."

Gertrude reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and removed a resume. "Her name is Emma Harvey, we met and University. In fact, we worked briefly at an internship before I graduated. She is very capable and understands how an archive should function."

He reviewed the information on the resume quickly, looking impressed. "I see nothing here that should stop her from joining us here at the Institute."

"Really?" Gertrude asked, a bit surprised. She had been expecting to have to do a fair amount of convincing to get him to hire someone he knew nothing about. 

He looked up from the resume. "As long as you trust her-"

"I trust her as much as I trust myself." Gertrude said with confidence.

Richard smiled. "Excellent. You may tell her that she's welcome to start as soon as possible. Just make sure she fills out the proper paperwork."

"Of course." She said. "Thank you."

He nodded and turned towards the door. "I'll send Fiona in on my way back to the office. I have the feeling you're still in need of her assistance."


	4. How Would You Track Down A Smiling Creature That Removes People's Faces?

_ Autumn 1965  
  
_

The sky had been locked in a single shade of grey for the past week. You couldn’t leave your home without shivering if you didn’t wear thick jumpers and coats. Every night darkness fell sooner and the hum of the radiator echoing through the house was one Gertrude had grown accustomed to.  


She was once told that the house had been in her family for decades. She never hesitated to believe this due to the many times she had seen her Aunt repair or replace some part of the place growing up. Now it was hers; the four bedroom, two story place with faulty wiring and creaky floor boards.   


When her Aunt had died she had been left with everything. They had no other family members and her Aunt had never married, had children or close friends to speak of. Gertrude had been raised by her Aunt since she was twelve and despite the two having never been very close, they were the only consistent people in each other's lives.  


It wasn't ideal to keep the large house. It would inevitably require repairs she wouldn’t have the money for but for now she lived rent free and got to enjoy the rather large fireplace.  


She was sat near it now, curled up on one of the sofas and pouring over one of Angus Stacey's notebooks. The man had written everything in dark blue ink and colored coded dates and correlating events with new colored markers she had seen researchers starting to use at the library.   


Most of the contents were useless as it had quickly become clear that the man thought it necessary to write down literally everything that happened in his day to day life. They read more like journals than proper academic notes yet were more structured and organized than any notes she had ever studied.  


It was frustrating to say the least and she had found nothing connecting to the creature or the rest of Tobin Williamson's statement. She had Fiona double checking the filed statements but there was little hope that she would find anything. Everything else in the Archives was impeccable and filed properly which only added to her frustration more.

Gertrude sighed and glanced at the chair opposite her. "What do you think, Maple?" She said to the ginger cat who lounging on it's seat. "How would you track down a smiling creature that removes people's faces?"

Maple opened one eye at the sound of her name, yawned and then closed it again. 

"If only it were that easy." Gertrude mumbled. "But sleep isn't a bad idea." She said, setting the notebook aside. The clock above the mantle already read half past eleven and if she wanted to get to work early a good night's rest was key. It was going to be the first day for both of her new assistants and Getrude wanted to have enough time to get projects prepared for both of them.

Setting the notebook aside she rose to her feet and went about putting out the fire. Once she turned to go Maple leaped to the floor and followed her up the stairs and into her room. 

"Perhaps with the extra help I'll be able to find something." Gertrude told Maple as she changed and climbed into bed. "I haven't been able to do much of anything yet."

Her cat mewed softly and curled up beside her.

"Alright I get it." Gertrude said with defeat. "I'll go to sleep now." The light slipped away as she flicked off the lamp and she quickly fell into a restful sleep.

**~**

"Hi, sorry to bother you but do you know which direction the Archives are in?"

Gertrude looked up from a stack of books into the face of a young man who looked to be the same age as her. He wore a thick unbuttoned coat that revealed a button down shirt and tie. "Eric Delano." She said instinctively.

His eyes lit up and he nodded. "Yeah that's me."

"Gertrude Robinson." She said, turning and carrying the books towards the basement stairs. "I'm the Head Archivist."

He was quick to follow after her. "It's nice to meet you! You're my new boss then."

"One of them." She agreed. 

He was quick to grab one of her books before it could slip to the floor as they descended. "Ah of course. Richard Mendlson did my interview. He's the one who runs everything. "

"Yes." She pushed open the door at the bottom with her shoulder and led them into the main work room. "You can set that here." Gertrude said, indicating to an empty desk she placed the rest of the books on.

Eric did so and studied the room. "A bit close down here."

Gertrude followed his gaze. "Yes well, space didn't seem to be a concern when the floor for the Archives was chosen." She straightened. "It's nice to meet you as well. Welcome to the Institute."

"Thank you."

"The entire basement is considered the Archives but the actual files are stored through there." She pointed to a door across from them. "My office is here." She turned to the left and gestured to the closed door. "And the statement room is right next to it. You will work out here with my other assistants Fiona and Emma, who you'll meet shortly. You can have any of the empty desks."

"Alright." Eric said. "What about the-"

"The library entrance was where you found me. You have full access for any research necessary. Artefact storage is the floor above and we passed the break room and lavatory on our way to the stairs." Gertrude reached into the top drawer of the desk they stood at. "This is the employment contract, please make sure to sign it in both places."

"Both places." He repeated, pulling a pen from his bag and doing so.

"I'm going to have Fiona get you the rest of the papers when she arrives." Gertrude told him, taking the contract. "I'll make sure Richard gets this later."

"Okay. And thank you by the way." The young man told her.

Gertrude paused. "What for?"

He set his bag on the empty desk beside the books. "Mr. Mendlson said that you chose me from the applicants and I wanted to thank you for picking me."

"I simply chose who I thought would work best here." She said plainly. "You're welcome I suppose, though you should really just be thanking yourself."

Eric blinked. "Right..."

"Good morning Gertrude!" Fiona's voice said from the bottom of the stairs.

"Good morning Fiona." Gertrude's eyes shifted to the familiar form of Emma Harvey walking beside her. "Emma," She said with a smile. "It's good to see you. Thank you for being here."

Emma smiled back, her keen eyes quick to take in the small office space. "I'm glad to be. It’s nice to see you too."

"She's already been  _ very  _ helpful." Fiona assured. "We bumped into each other in the parking lot, she brought me my keys after I dropped them behind me."

Emma shrugged politely. "It was nothing." Her gaze shifted to the room's other occupant. "You're the other assistant?"

Eric nodded. "Yes, Eric Delano." He shook their hands. "It's nice to meet you both, I look forward to us working together."

Gertrude dug up one more contract and handed it to Emma. "Both lines, and I already have a file waiting for you once you're finished with the rest of the paperwork. I brought these books to help you get started with it."

Emma nodded and quickly signed the paper. "It won't take me long." She promised, moving the books to the desk closest to the stairs.

"Fiona could you get the rest of the paperwork for Eric and Emma and then see me when you're done?" Gertrude asked, heading to her office.

"Not a problem." Fiona assured. 

Gertrude looked to her new assistants who had chosen desks across from each other. "See me when you're done as well and I'll get you started for the day."

"Sure thing." Eric said with a nod.

Emma smiled. "Of course."

"Alright." Gertrude said. "I'll be in my office."

She closed the door behind her and breathed a soft sigh. The dreary office stood around her silently and Gertrude made her way to the desk and the documents on top of it. Since she arrived early they were already organized and ready to be sent upstairs for any grad students who used the library for research.

Next to the documents was a stack of old newspapers. Gertrude had been searching for Hubert Matthew’s name in the entertainment section of the nearby papers. The phone books had turned up nothing and she figured it would be easier to find the correct Hubert Matthews if she was looking at a show announcement instead of tracking down more of the thick paper volumes.

Gertrude reckoned that once she tracked down the director and the theatre, it could lead her to Tobin Williamson and she could finally have the rest of his statement.

She suddenly frowned as that last thought crossed her mind.  _ The rest of his statement?  _

She  _ did  _ want to know what the rest of his statement was but she wanted to find him so she could find the  _ creature _ , not because she was overly concerned with finishing his account.

The account in itself was odd. Each time she reviewed the statement the lack of information stuck out to her. It was as if Angus hadn't interviewed the man at all, or didn't specify the sort of details that were important to include when writing a statement. There was no address, no theatre name or contact information for Tobin Williamson. At first she thought the contact information would be on the lost page but when reviewing others she found that Angus attached contact information separately on the front of statements. So either that page was also missing or never existed in the first place.

The amount of detail and time Angus took in organizing the Archives and statements didn’t add up to the way Tobin’s had been written. Did he know the creature had been coming for him and that had made him sloppy at the end? Or had he suspected anything at all?

A soft knock on the door drew her from her thoughts and Gertrude sat up straighter. “Come in.”

Fiona stepped through the door and closed it carefully behind her. “They both have all the paperwork.”

“Thank you.” Gertrude said and began thumbing through the stack of newspapers. “I’m going to start looking through the first half of these if you could start with the second?”

The woman approached the desk eagerly. “What is it we’re looking for?”

“I assume that you found nothing else in the Archives connected to Tobin’s statement?”

Fiona shook her head.

“In that case I’m looking for the man he mentioned, Hubert Matthews. He’s the director at the theatre Tobin Williamson performs at. If we can find his name in any theatre announcements we can track him down through the theatre itself.”

Fiona busied herself with picking up the stack of papers. “And when we do, what then?”

“Then he leads us to Tobin Williamson.” Gertrude said.

“You’re doing all this work just to get the rest of someone’s statement we lost?” Fiona asked, curiosity shining in her eyes.

“Not...not particularly.” Gertrude said, distracted by a strange sensation that crept along the back of her neck. “I want more information about the creature itself.” She studied the older woman once the feeling faded. “Don’t you want to know more about it?”

Fiona blinked. “Well, yes I did but now that it’s killed-”

“I’m sure it hasn’t stopped killing since Mr. Stacey,” Gertrude said flatly. “Nor do I believe he was the first this creature has killed.”

“I’m sure that’s true but-”

“Was Richard wrong when he told me of your avid desire to track down the truth of things?” She interrupted irritably. Of everyone here she would have thought Fiona to be completely on board with her investigation.

The woman shook her head. “No of course not! But it sounds like you want more than the truth and I...well I don’t want to be finding your body next.” Fiona said, holding the newspapers tightly.

Gertrude sighed. “I’m not going to die Fiona. I’m not doing any of this recklessly.”

A look of anger passed over the woman's face and she suddenly glared at Gertrude. “Do you want it's statement? Is that it?”

Gertrude blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Mr. Stacey,” Fiona explained. “At the end that’s all he could talk about. The statements and getting them from the source of the things that terrorized people! It was probably what killed him. He wouldn’t let it go and-

Gertrude rose to her feet as the woman grew more and more upset. “Fiona! It’s nothing like that, I promise you. There are more important things than that.”

“But it  _ is  _ important to you?”

Fiona,” She said slowly. “All I want is information about the creature that killed your Archivist. If that brings me face to face with it then so be it, but I’m  _ not  _ going to let it kill me. Alright?”

Fiona stood in silence, looking her in the eyes. “Why?” She said suddenly.

“Why what?” Gertrude asked.

“Why do you want to know more about it?”

Gertrude frowned as if it was obvious. “Because, why should it be allowed to get away with what it’s done?”


	5. Actually I'm An Archivist But I Doubt You Have The Capacity To Understand The Difference

_Autumn 1965_

"So, you're finally in a position to do what you've always wanted."

Gertrude glanced at Emma whose face was pink with the cold. "I don't know about always." She said, her breath clouding the air in front of them. "But yes I am."

"And you didn't have to sell your soul to get it." Emma added with an approving grin.

She laughed. "That was never one of my options but no, I didn't. I don't even have to do a job I hate." She shrugged. "Honestly I'm lucky Richard isn't keen to be more involved in the Archives. I pretty much have free reign."

"As if he could stop you." Emma said with a gleam in her eyes.

"Well...that too." Gertrude admitted. "But I don't think he would have much of a choice either way. It seemed as though I was the only available person with the proper skills for the job."

Emma frowned. "That's a bit convenient."

"I suppose it is but I'm not about to question it." Gertrude admitted as they turned the street corner. "The theatre should be just up here."

The two women scanned the buildings that lined the street and spotted a large sign declaring THE EXHIBITION THEATRE above the largest one. It was clearly well maintained but as they approached Gertrude noticed that the advertised play was the same as the ad she found in a three month old newspaper.

"That's odd." Emma said, apparently noticing the same detail. "From the look of it it seems as though it gets a lot of business."

Gertrude continued forward and sighed with relief when the heavy door opened beneath her touch. The air inside was considerably warmer than the world outside and she shivered as her body adjusted to the temperature.

Emma followed her inside and wandered towards the ticket kiosk. "Anyone here?"

Gertrude headed towards what looked like an information desk, spotting a phone. "It's not plugged in." She called over to Emma. "That's why the number didn't work for us."

Her assistant studied the kiosk. "The phone is unplugged but the heat is on. And there aren't any new playbills or ads anywhere."

"According to ads in the papers this place is open all year long." Gertrude said, looking towards the House doors. "So why isn't-"

"Can I help you ladies?" A man's voice said harshly.

She spun back towards the main entrance where a tall, irritated man was standing. "Hubert Matthews?"

The man laughed. "Is that a joke?"

Gertrude shared a confused look with Emma. "Not at all. We're looking for Mr. Matthews."

The man crossed his arms, the unpleasant look not fading. "What for?"

"That's between us and Hubert." Emma shot back before Gertrude could.

"Well good luck with that, Hubert passed away back in September." The man walked over to the information desk and began rummaging through one of it's drawers.

"Hubert's dead?" Gertrude blurted out despite herself. "Then who are you?"

The man shot her an annoyed look but answered anyway. "Daniel Mullins. I own the building."

"So one director dies and the whole place gets shut down?" Emma crossed her arms. "That seems a bit drastic, aren't there any other directors that work here?"

Daniel sighed. "At the moment, no. The place has been closed since his passing."

Gertrude took a step forward. "How exactly did he die?"

He stopped his rummaging and stared at the both of them. "How would I know? All I heard was that it was some freak accident."

Emma narrowed her eyes. "Interesting choice of words."

"And what does that mean?" Daniel glowered. "Who are you guys anyway?" He said and then shook his head. "Never mind, I don't even know why I'm talking to you. Get out please. I have a lot to do."

Emma began to say something but Gertrude shook her head.

"We just need to know one more thing, do you have contact information for your actors?" She asked, having spotted an office door behind the information desk.

Daniel scoffed. "Of course. They need to know when rehearsal is, don't they?"

"Would that information be in the office behind you?"

"Where else?"

Gertrude walked straight up to him. "Mr. Mullins my associate and I worked for the Magnus Institute, have you heard of it?"

He glanced down at her with confusion. "The what?"

"The Magnus Institute. We research 'freak accidents' and work closely with the police when necessary." She let that sink in before continuing. "I would like the contact information for one of your actors, would it be alright if I obtained it?"

"What? Hang on, you're investigators?" He looked at the both of them and laughed. "You expect me to believe the police work with you two girls?"

Gertrude took a deep breath and motioned to Emma behind her back. "Actually I'm an Archivist but I doubt you have the capacity to understand the difference."

That got the reaction she wanted and as he began to shout at her Emma slipped into and out of office before he'd even noticed her absence.

"Alright I understand." Gertrude said, stepping away from him. "We're on our way."

"Don't let me catch you around here again!"

Back in the cold Emma released a held back laugh. "That was more fun that I expected."

"Not for me." Gertrude said but she wore a smile of her own. "At least we got what we needed."

Emma studied the piece of paper in her hands. "You do realize that we stole this information right?"

She sighed and took the page. "Yes well, we didn't have any other choice."

"I can't argue with that. Do you think Hubert's death is connected to everything else?"

"Most definitely."

**~**

"There you are!" Fiona said as soon as they returned to the Archives. "Gertrude there's a woman who wants to give a statement! She's already waiting."

Gertrude quickly removed her coat and gloves. "When did she get here?"

"She hasn't been here long, just a few minutes. I told her you stepped away to have your lunch."

"Thank you." She said briskly and went directly to the statement room.

It was rather plain, like the rest of the Archives it contained only the necessities. A rectangle wooden table stood in the center with wooden chairs on either side. Gertrude thought it looked rather like an interrogation room, which she supposed it was in a way but she would have at least made it feel a bit more welcoming.

There was a woman in the chair farthest from the door, wringing her hands anxiously. As Gertrude entered she jumped a little and looked at her with wide eyes. "You're the Archivist?"

She nodded, grabbing a pen and a statement form from the stack that waited on the table. "Yes, please call me Gertrude. Could I get your name?" She asked as she sat across from her.

"April...April Stewart." As she spoke she pushed her fair hair aside nervously.

"April Stewart." Gertrude repeated, writing the name down on the front of the form. "Before you start writing could I get some contact information? A phone number or address?"

She nodded. "Of course." April then stuttered through her contact information, never relaxing.

"Can I get you anything?" Gertrude said, feeling a bit helpless as she watched the woman rock back and forth.

April shook her head. "N-no. Sorry. I'm just...I wonder if I should have come here."

"Why is that?"

Her blue eyes suddenly snapped to Gertrude's. "Because everywhere I go people die."

There was something manic in the woman's eyes and Gertrude suddenly wondered if she should be handing her an object that could be used to stab someone with. "Everywhere?"

April blinked once. "Almost everywhere."

She glanced at the form in her hands. "And how do these- how do people die when you're around?"

"They kill each other. I don't know why, all I do is look at them." She brushed her hair aside again although it hadn't fallen forward.

"Like how you're looking at me now?" Gertrude asked.

April shook her head. "No...it's different when it happens. I don't feel it here."

"Here, or now?"

"Here. I think." She blinked once more. "That's odd isn't it?"

Gertrude shook her head. "I'll have _you_ tell me what's odd." She spun the form around and pushed it and the pen towards her. "Write down everything that lead to...people killing each other around you. Every detail you can recall, leaving nothing out. That includes addresses and dates as you can remember them"

The manic look in her eyes seemed to lessen a bit and April nodded slowly. "Okay. What do I do when I'm done?"

Gertrude rose to her feet. "My assistant Emma is just outside at the closest desk, let her know when you've finished and I'll return to wrap things up here."

April nodded slowly again. "Alright." She said and then picked up the pen and began writing.

Gertrude quietly left the statement room and closed the door softly. "Bloody hell..." She whispered.

"You alright?" Eric asked from behind his desk.

She nodded. " _I'm_ alright."

"That woman is writing a statement right now?" Eric asked skeptically.

Gertrude nodded.

"I'm surprised she can hold a pen, let alone focus enough to write down her story." He said. "She seems like she's probably on something."

The same thing had definitely crossed her mind. "We'll see. Where did Emma go off to?"

Eric glanced at her desk. "Oh ran to the lavatory I think."

"If April leaves before she returns let me know."

"Sure thing."

Gertrude retrieved her coat and gloves from the last empty desk and went straight into her office. "Dead directors and people killing each other." She muttered softly. "What a promising day so far."


	6. Don’t Fight It Archivist I’m Sure You Have A Lovely Smile

_Winter 1965_

“Any luck with that number yet?” 

Gertude shook her head and glanced at Eric. “What about you? Any luck with those police reports?”

Frowning -as he had been all morning- Eric shook his head. “No, they keep shutting me down everytime I mention the location April gave us.”

This was unsurprising to her. “That means something definitely happened.”

“Well...sure.” He said, picking up the file. “But twelve people suddenly losing their heads and tearing each other apart? It’s… a little hard to believe.”

Gertrude raised a brow. “I thought you believed in the supernatural.”

He spread his hands. “I do, absolutely. But what was the point?”

“Does there have to be one?” She countered.

“Perhaps,” Emma said, suddenly returning from the Archives. “They were possessed by those ghosts you like so much.”

Eric’s face lit up. “Honestly I could get behind that if we had more of the facts.”

“But we don’t. Emma pointed out unnecessarily. 

“It’s your job to get more information on this one.” Gertrude told him. “So do that, then you can find out if there were ghosts involved. Or even if there was a reason.”

“Right.” He muttered, focusing back on the papers at his desk. “Getting back to work.”

“What did you find Emma?” She asked while she waited for the copy machine to spit out paper.

The woman offered her a paperclipped brown file. “I don’t believe it to be related to the April Stewart statement but it does mention something we’ve encountered before.” Emma spoke quietly, not enough to whisper but low enough so Eric wouldn’t overhear. 

Curious, Gertrude flipped it open and scanned the contents quickly. “Nineteen thirty... _Percy Fawcett?_ ” This was certainly intriguing. “It appears he made it back from the jungle after all.”

“Yes but wait until you read the description of the creatures he saw there.” Her assistant said eagerly, her eyes shining with excitement.

“This is- oh.” She narrowed her eyes at the passage scrawled across the old paper. “I see.”

Emma leaned in closer. “This is the first description either of us have come across that matches the one we saw!”

Gertrude frowned at the passage, her own memories blending with Percy Fawcett’s. A creature with a long bulbous tongue and belly filled with stolen blood…

“I’m going to refile this one under my new system.” She announced suddenly, flipping the folder shut.

Emma took a stunned step back. “That’s all you have to say?”

She shrugged. “What else is there to say? We already knew vampires- or creatures very much like them- were real.” Her hands held the papers tight as she deflected. There was something inside her that told her this statement was important. There was more to this than obsessed hunters and vampires. 

Eric’s question suddenly popped into her mind. _‘But what was the point?’_

 _Yes, what was the point?_ She thought in response.

Her assistant began to protest but Gertude silenced her. “Thank you Emma. Keep an eye out for anything else related to this, April or Tobin.” She swiftly scooped up the copies and disappeared into her office.

She set aside the copies and fell into her chair. Gertrude flipped open the file and began unclipping it from the brown folder, preparing it for one of the new ones. 

Before she grabbed the new folder though, she paused and studied the statement more closely. 

_Tell nobody I am alive. I cannot be clear enough on that point. Do not try to find me after I have left. Please. All I ask is that I be allowed to live what life I have remaining in obscurity and anonymity._

As the words went on, so did she. Gertrude followed each sentence and word closely but it wasn’t until she finished that she realized she had been reading the statement aloud. 

**~**

_Short tempered_ _  
_ _Annoyed_ _  
_ Tired

She scribbled the words into her notebook as the woman complained loudly about the temperature of the tea she’d received. She hadn’t been the most interesting person to take notes on but the rain had driven the majority of customers away. Most patrons had taken their drinks to go which had left Gertrude and the woman alone in the lobby.

She had come to the cafe nearly every day over the past weeks to mull over the situation of Tobin Williamson. The number Emma had got from the theatre was no longer in use and when she had checked the phone listings it had only led to an empty flat. 

Since she hadn’t made contact with the man she wasn’t sure what the next move should be. Giving up was not an option but she had started to suspect it might take longer than anticipated.

The steam from her tea wafted towards her and Gertrude took a sip, turning her attention back to the notebook. She remembered every person she had written a list for going back years. It was something she did to help her think or destress. It was simple and easy to observe someone. You could learn a lot about someone by just watching them. 

Having finished the list for the woman Gertrude glanced at the shop keep. He was new, or at least she had never seen him work here yet. She settled on a new page in the notebook as her thoughts about Tobin ran quietly in the background.

_Genuine_

She wrote it quickly. It also appeared as though he was very-

Gertrude shivered, sensing someone’s gaze upon her. Her eyes flashed to the woman but instead she saw a man sitting where she had been only moments ago. He was staring at her and smiling the most unsettling smile she’d ever seen.

Once their gaze met he rose to his feet and walked over to the table, sitting across from her. He was tall, clearly taller than herself. His hair was short and black but still managed to curl around his face. He wore an expression of amusement and his smile only widened when she sat back in her chair.

“It’s uncomfortable isn’t it?” The man asked with a smooth, pleasant voice.

Gertrude said nothing, waiting for him to say whatever it was that amused him. 

He raised his brows at her silence. “Perhaps it doesn’t bother you after all? I guess it would make sense if it didn’t.”

“What exactly are you going on about?” She asked, adding a bit of confusion to her voice.

Even though he had never stopped smiling, it felt as if he started all over again. “Your need to know. Just like that.” He said, apparently indicating to her question. “Although I’m curious to know why you didn’t first question who I am.”

“That’s because it’s obvious Tobin.”

That made him laugh. “Archivists, always so arrogant. You know it’s not you that knows that, right?”

Gertrude frowned at him. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

Tobin scoffed. “Right.” A thoughtful look crossed his face then and his smile widened. 

Gertrude was torn between looking at his teeth and looking away. Her eyes kept being drawn to the shining white that he displayed so widely. When her eyes landed on his smile completely she felt her own lips twitch as if to mirror it.

To ignore it, Gertrude picked up her tea and took a long drink.

“Don’t fight it Archivist.” Her eyes flashed to his as he called her that. “I’m sure you have a lovely smile.”

She set the tea aside and cleared her throat. “How did you know I was looking for you?”

“You weren’t trying very hard to hide it.” Tobin sat back abruptly and closed his eyes. “Hmm that’s very unpleasant but not nearly as unpleasant has it had been with the previous Archivist.”

“So you did meet Angus.” She said, wondering what he meant by unpleasant.

He opened his eyes and stared back at her. “No, I never met the real Angus Stacey.”

“Is that why he was killed?”

His grin shined at her. “He died because we wanted his face.”

Gertrude narrowed her eyes. “The creature wanted his face.”

“No.” Tobin said strongly. “I _very_ much wanted it too.”

She opened her mouth to ask him why but he quickly interrupted. “That’s enough questions for now. Angus already got the statement from me.”

“He didn’t get it from you, you _left_ it for him to find in the Archives. You wanted to scare him, give him a clue as to what was coming.”

She averted her eyes as he grinned more widely. “You’re a lot quicker than Angus was. I thought I’d do you favor so you wouldn’t have to keep wondering what it said.” Tobin reached into his coat pocket and removed a piece of paper. “He had it with him when he died, I think he believed something I wrote could somehow help him.”

He unfolded the paper and pushed it towards her on the table. She immediately recognized it as the same handwriting as the first two pages. It was severely wrinkled and in the bottom corner was a smudge of something she was certain was blood.

“Are you hoping to scare me in the same way?” Gertrude asked, her voice pitched with doubt. “You’ll find that I’m-”

His smile abruptly vanished and he glared at her. “I said _no more questions._ ”

“And why is that?” She asked fiercely. “Perhaps because I am asking the right ones?”

Tobin shook his head. “Ugh _no_. Because I don’t want to answer them.”

She took another sip of tea. “No ones twisting your arm-”

“You would do well to be more cautious with your questions.” He jumped to his feet angrily. “You’re lucky it doesn’t want you yet.” Tobin hissed, pushing his way out the door and disappearing down the street.

Gertrude looked back at the statement, her thoughts racing. It appeared everything would be happening _sooner_ than expected rather than later. With that thought in mind she quickly finished her tea, gathered her things and headed back to the Institute.


End file.
